450 



THE REVELATION OF A BIT OF ROAD. 



Island, they brought no suggestion but that of holiday 

 and carelessness. Each carried a happy thought for 

 freight, a crew of Arcadians, and a helmsman who was 



happy hunt 



The brook fringing the sWale of the meadow 



choosing his favorite path out of the whole universe. 

 But, in short, the spell was on everything. The cows 

 were posing for Rosa Bonheur, the horses had arranged 

 a study for Schreyer, the brook had hung out an invita- 

 tion for Richards, the woman in the bright shawl by the 

 well was waiting impatiently for Meyer von Bremen, and 

 one only wanted a frame and the signature of Millet to 

 feel complete ownership of the men and oxen drawing 

 stone to build the wall in the neighboring field. 



So, as I swung along, I found a new interest in the 

 houses. The chances of the brown eyed daughter of the 

 professor in the village being married to the blue-eyed 

 son of the farmer up the road offered a most 

 interesting field of speculation, compared 

 with which new oil-wells or gold-fields were 

 not to be considered. In this little wood- 

 colored cottage I knew a young married 

 couple had lately settled. What possible 

 reason could there be why they should not 

 be as happy as Adam and Eve on Para- 

 dise's first holiday ? Was Eden blessed with 

 a sweeter air ? And how could they help 

 loving each other ? Absurd to doubt it ! 

 How they would laugh at me ! 



The horses hereabout all stop to drink 

 from a roadside spring at the foot of the 

 hill on the left. This hill was a rallying- 

 place for the tribe of Indians who lived in 

 this region and who gave the name to our 

 road. Their flint arrow-heads and toma- 

 hawks lie under the sod now ; but how they 

 would disturb one's reflections if they 

 should come whistling down from that cone- 

 shaped hill ! Will the Indian question be 

 a vexed one in the land where the good Indians go ? 

 Will they be cheated out of their reservations ? Or are 

 the aboriginal chiefs satisfied with being annihilated? 



Can it not be imagined that this dusky skirmish-line of 

 humanity in this western land may appreciate in its 

 g-grounds " the grim heroism of being 

 exterminated that civilization 

 may advance over their bodies ? 



Ah, here was the house where 

 the little mischiefs once used to 

 fling stones at my horse from 

 behind the wall as I drove by. 

 How could I ever have been 

 vexed at such natural exuber- 

 ance o f youth ? it probably 

 taught me a good lesson ! Here 

 comes a man who is almost con- 

 tinually sour-faced. I drop him 

 an easy salutation, and he 

 smiles, and, to my surprise, re- 

 plies pleasantly. There must be 

 a reserve of good humor in 

 everybody. 



There was crape on the door 

 at the next house. Still it seems 

 natural and proper enough that 

 people should die — a kind of promotion. They have 

 earned their rest and must now be enjoying this same 

 rare weather, whether their spirits wander carelessly 

 over the earth or their bodies thrill where they lie with 

 the passive joy of the awakening soil. The little neg- 

 lected graveyards here and there have their full share 

 in the holiday scene. 



The sun dies in the west, and the light in the little al- 

 cove reaches out down the road to me and shortens the 

 last half-mile of the road home. A long road will grow 

 somewhat tiresome even when it is enchanted, and it is 

 right pleasant to receive an unexpected lift. Such a one 



'The cows were posing for Rosa Bonheur 



I will always remember gratefully 

 good opinion of the world when he ; 

 way, and staggers, sick, 



A man gets a new 

 last tires out by the 

 the roadside, if a stranger 



